Skip to content

A Birthday



this is the arm that held you
this is the hand that cradled your cold feet

these are the ears that heard you
whimper and cough throughout your brush with light

this is the chest that warmed you
these are the eyes that caught your glimpse of life

this is the man you fathered —
his voided love, his writhen pride and grief

On Friday just past, Aidan Michael Philip would have been four years old. Four years crammed with pain, despair and — yes — joy. Four years with the contrast on life turned up to the max (or as near it as makes no difference). Yes, life moves on from those early days when the grief and pain were utterly, constantly overwhelming. But it emphatically does not go back to normal and there will always be occasions when, expectedly or unexpectedly, something brings the grief shuddering back.

I ask myself why I feel the need to say something in a public space like this, or on my Facebook profile, as I have done this week. I suppose it’s partly because Aidan will never have the chance to make his own voice heard in public and partly because such grief is otherwise largely hidden. The same impulses that led me to publish the poems about Aidan that appear in The Ambulance Box.

This week, obituaries appeared for the Welsh poet Dic Jones, who died in August. He, too, was a bereaved father. A while back, working from Tony Conran’s translation, I wrote a Scots version of his heartbreaking poem “Lamentation”. If you’re on Facebook, you can read it in this note.

Connections like that are often a lifeline for bereaved parents. Indeed, James Reiss‘s elegies for his baby son were one of the things that drew me to Salt. We’ve been privileged to meet some dear friends through losing Aidan, people we wouldn’t want to be without, and several already dear friends became even dearer.

Yet what wouldn’t we give to have him here with us?

6 Comments leave one →
  1. Russell permalink
    06/09/2009 15:57

    Just to say we are remembering Aidan

    • Andrew Philip permalink
      07/09/2009 15:33

      Thank you, Russell. We know you don’t forget.

  2. 06/09/2009 17:23

    I thought of Aidan on Friday. He’d be proud of the man he fathered.

    It’s a double life after you lose your child. We lost our son 10 years ago, and it is like it was yesterday. That is both a joy and a horror. But I’m so glad I had the time I did with him. Thank you for sharing Aidan with us.

    • Andrew Philip permalink
      07/09/2009 15:34

      Thank you, Vicky. I’m so sorry to hear that you face the same grief. I feel exactly the same way about the very short time we had with Aidan. Thanks for dropping by.

  3. 06/09/2009 17:54

    Thank you for posting this, Andrew. Needless to say, you are all very much on my mind this weekend. Beautiful poems.

  4. Andrew Philip permalink
    07/09/2009 15:35

    Thanks, Robert. We’re lucky to have friends such as you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: